Quoted By:
The sycamore trees howled, yawning, and there emerged from a swirling maelstrom of emptiness now formed and made whole, the glass can be uncut and shimmer new reflections so the ink can be spilled again. Is the ouroboros still splayed and flayed from spine to tail, or has the silver like the glass repaired into its woven tale? Under a beating sun they marched over water and through the sand that scours and blinds except for those that can see, such wisdom to be gained for no one but one.
